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Sandra, a middle-aged prisoner in a penal institution, was about to get a spanking.

The new guard, a young woman named Emma Froese, had caught her smoking after lights out. Emma sat down on the narrow bed and instructed Sandra to bend over her lap.

"I'm going to spank your bare bottom," she said. Then she raised the grey nightdress and administered a hard spanking. Sandra winced, and it wasn't only from the fire in her butt. She knew that the other prisoners were listening intently to the sound of the spanking. It rang out so loudly in the quiet cellblock. Her face burned with shame.

After Emma left, Sandra crawled under the coarse blanket and curled into a fetal position, both hands clutching her scarlet bottom. She hadn't been spanked since she was a child, and the humiliating nature of the punishment shook her to the core. That she, a dignified older woman; a grandmother for pities' sake, should be upended and spanked by a girl half her age was mortifying. But knowing that the entire block had been listening was the most humiliating part of all. How would she face them tomorrow?

Sandra dabbed some ointment onto her hot, stinging bottom. She thought about her husband, her children and friends, and was terrified that they would ever find out that she'd been spanked.

She was not the typical prisoner. From an affluent background, Sandra had made the mistake of lying for a friend. When the alibi had been proven false, she had been sentenced to 6 months in prison.

"I bet that hurt last night." It was Freda, the tall bony seamstress from the cell next door. She was serving time for passing bad checks.

Sandra shrugged, dismissing the incident as unimportant. She had decided that this was the best way to handle it.

"Well, it's better than being sent to the Matron's office for the strap," Freda added philosophically. "You can't sit down for a week after that."

Other prisoners had begun to congregate around her, and she heard one whisper, "Is that the woman who was spanked?"

Emma was a new guard, and she was determined to maintain discipline on her block.
Recalcitrant children were spanked when they misbehaved, and Emma regarded her charges in the same light. She never considered how humiliating this treatment was to grown women.

When Freda was caught reading a risqué novel that had been smuggled in to her, she met with the same fate. This time it was Sandra who lay and listened to the sound of the spanking. She could picture in her mind's eye the tall, bony Freda bent over Emma's lap. Her panties down around her ankles. The guard's hand falling smartly, and rhythmically on her bare bottom.

"I guess you heard me being spanked last night?" Freda asked sheepishly, studying the toes of her shoes. "I made the mistake of moving, and she picked up a hairbrush and spanked me harder and longer." This is why Sandra had forced herself to remain absolutely still during the punishment. She had known instinctively that to move would increase the severity of the spanking.

"Is your bottom still sore?" Sandra asked kindly, and when Freda nodded, she gave her some ointment to soothe it.

Sometimes Emma took the wrongdoer to her office for a spanking. That's what happened to Sandra the next time she broke the rules. She found it a more awkward position than when she had been spanked on her bed. Then, although her toes were touching the floor, she'd been able to rest her arms on the bed. Now, her hands were flat on the floor for balance, and she was on tiptoes. It left her bottom higher in the air, more vulnerable and exposed.

She forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly while Emma administered the spanking. At least no one was listening this time, to the sharp snapping sound the guard's hand made as it descended on her upraised bottom.

After Sandra returned to her cell, she smoothed ointment over her reddened behind and crawled into bed. If the country club crowd could only see me now, she thought in horror. But the spankings did not seem as ludicrous to her now as they had done at first. In fact, now that she wasn't fighting the idea, but simply accepting the inevitability of the spankings, she was experiencing a sense of release.

As she bent herself over Emma's lap, and her bottom was bared, the tension seemed to drain out of her with every spank that fell. But recently, there was yet another dimension that accompanied the punishments.

Sandra had found much to her horror, that she was becoming sexually aroused by the spankings.

She was confused and appalled by this turn of events. The first time it had happened was right after she had smoothed some ointment onto her hot behind. Lying on her side in the hard bed, her vagina had become wet and began to throb.

Sandra masturbated, the memory of her humiliation increasing her excitement. Afterwards, she felt confused and appalled at herself for her actions. Would this mean that after she got out of prison her husband would no longer satisfy her? Would this mean that she would want to be spanked by a woman?

What Sandra did know was that she was now looking forward to being spanked by Emma, and deliberately misbehaved to ensure that the guard would discipline her. There was a thrill ran through her at the very idea of the punishments. And she wasn't only getting aroused after the spankings but during them too.

Then one day Emma shocked her by asking, "Do you like being spanked?"

She had just bent over the guard's lap and was trembling in anticipation. Perhaps Emma had heard her moan in sheer ecstasy the last time she had punished her.

"I... I no ma'am, " she responded haltingly.

"This is the second time this week," Emma remarked. She raised Sandra's skirt, and gave her bottom an experimental spank. "Your bottom is still pink from the last spanking."

Then the guard did something that this confused middle-aged woman found both surprising and wildly exciting. She lowered Sandra's skirt gently, and patted her covered bottom. "Were you spanked when you were a child?" she asked, her voice low.

"No ma'am," Sandra replied, her breathing ragged.

Emma continued to pat the behind that she had often spanked so vigorously.

"You're getting out next week." It was part statement, part question.

"Yes, ma'am," Sandra was having difficulty speaking; she felt as if she were riding a wonderful warm wave, her vagina throbbed and twitched.

"Would you like to come and visit me? On the outside I mean?"

"Oh yes ma'am I would." Sandra's heart drummed a tattoo in her ears.

She knew that her bottom and legs had stiffened as the hot swell of desire rose within her.

"Just relax," Emma murmured. She moved her hand over the rigid behind. "You're very aroused, aren't you?"

Sandra began to protest, but the guard cut her short.

"Hush," she ordered. "There's no reason to be ashamed or afraid. You are very turned on, aren't you?"

"I... I yes ma'am," Sandra admitted.

Emma snapped on a surgical glove, and inserted two fingers into Sandra's wet, swollen cunt. "My, you are excited," she whispered. "You naughty girl."

Sandra gasped and moved her bottom wildly as Emma finger fucked her. She experienced sensations so acute they were almost unbearable. When her climax came she felt as if she'd been transported to paradise. Emma let her lie there for a while until the contractions had subsided, while she patted her bottom gently.

"So this is what's been going on behind my back!" It was the Matron, a hefty Amazon of a woman who never smiled. She had slipped into the room unnoticed by the two women.

"...I," Emma blurted out, her face paling. "...I can explain."

"You're dismissed Froese," snapped Matron. "I'll see you never work in the prison service again. As for you," and she turned her threatening bulk on Sandra. "You're coming along to my office for the strap."

Sandra pulled up her panties and lowered her skirt. She was trembling with fear, and still palpitating from the orgasm. By far the most powerful one she had ever had.

Her eyes pleaded with Emma, but the erstwhile guard was powerless to help her.

"Come and see me when you get out," Emma whispered, out of earshot of the indomitable Matron. "I'm in the book."

The corridors leading to the Matron's office seemed never ending. Sandra wondered if she should try and escape? That she was about to receive a truly brutal beating-that would make all the spankings received from Emma seem like love pats by comparison - she had no doubt. She was terrified.

There was a whipping stool in Matron's office which she was instructed to bend over.
A guard lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties; then she manacled her wrists and ankles. Sandra felt dizzy, and she was having difficulty breathing.

Matron wielded a heavy strap through the air, experimentally, before bringing it down hard across Sandra's trembling bum. She shrieked with pain, trying desperately to suck in her injured bottom and free herself before the next stroke fell. But she was caught fast, like a wild thing in a trap.

She screamed as the punishment continued. Her bottom was now so painful it was numb.

"That will teach you to engage in filthy practices in future," Matron warned, when she finally put away the strap.

The guard moved to unlock the handcuffs, but Matron stopped her. "You can go now," she instructed. "I'll see to that."

"You deserve more than just your bottom soundly strapped," declared Matron, and she withdrew a light thin strap from her desk drawer. "I'm going to spank your privates as well."

"No." Sandra screamed. "Please don't." She knew that her genitals were horribly exposed in her bent almost double position. But Matron ignored her pleas.

"I'm going to scourge you of your lustful ways," she declared.

She spanked the backs and insides of Sandra's thighs with the thin strap then gave her genitals a light stroke.

Sandra screamed in agony. The vicious sadistic old bitch, she fumed.

"You won't be getting aroused again for quite a while," Matron noted with relish, as she surveyed Sandra's severely strapped bottom with satisfaction.

*

"The marks are fading now," Emma whispered. Sandra lay across her lap and she gently stroked the backs of her thighs, genitals and bottom.

"I limped for a while after the beating," Sandra confided. "And it hurt like hell every time I peed."

"Poor darling," cooed Emma. She got up to pull the blinds and switch on a lamp. Her apartment looked cosy and welcoming.

"But Matron was wrong," mused Sandra. "I did get aroused big time, after I returned to my cell." She recalled how she had masturbated furiously in the narrow bed. There was just something about pain that brought a special kind of erotic pleasure.

"You're incorrigible," laughed Emma.

"I guess I just love getting my bottom spanked," admitted Sandra. "Speaking of which, what are we waiting for?"

Iona Blair has written several erotic novels, including What Are You Wearing?Unholy Lust,Scarlet Stockings, and Erotic Obsession., all published by Pink Flamingo, Women's Prison, by C.F. Publications,Desire and Depravity by Amatory Ink, Cassolette, by Phaze.com and The Red Velvet Horse, by Sensorotica.

Her short stories have appeared in a variety of publications including the Australian Women's Forum Magazine, Oysters & Chocolate, and the Velvet Mafia. She lives in an old converted lighthouse in British Columbia, where her thoughts run as wild as the weather.